


Courage

by lferion



Series: Iron and Light [20]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Courage, Father Figures, Gen, Hunters & Hunting, Pre-Canon, Rites of Passage, Wargs, fun times in ered luin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: Young Kíli and courage





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks go to Morgynleri for encouragement & sanity-checking.
> 
> Relates to the scene near the end of [Chapter 12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/628170/chapters/1160604) of The Secret, in Zana's Lay of Dwalin the Dwarf. Part of Iron and Light.

* * *

Kili had killed the warg, killed it dead, his blow the one that stopped its growl and made it slump to the ground, still and limp. 

He was shaking with both exultation and terror, and that was all right. Uncle Thorin had said, in the voice he used for the very most important and personal things, that feeling afraid wasn't wrong, wasn't bad, or a fault, it was just a feeling, and sometimes a very sensible and even useful feeling. It was what you did in response that mattered, whether you let the feeling be in charge, or if _you_ stayed in charge, and the feeling was part of what you used to choose what to do. He'd done that, and it had been hard, to see and hear and smell the rank smell of the warg, heart hammering, knees wanting to wobble, a little voice saying ‘crouch, be quiet, hide! It wants to eat you!’ And _not_ just stop and curl up under one of the fallen branches until it went away. ‘Crouch’ and ‘quiet’, those were good, went with what Uncle Thorin and Mister Dwalin had told him about hunting wolves and wargs and things, so that was sense. Not the curling up and hiding part. The wolf _did_ want to eat him, but hiding wouldn't help that. Killing it would help that. And then they could eat _it_. 

So he had crouched down, quiet, holding his breath, and he could feel Uncle Thorin and Mister Dwalin behind him, which was good, because it was a very big warg, and it was close, coming closer, and he had to hit it just right, first with the spear, and then with the axe. They had spears and axes too, but he was closest, he could see where the spear needed to go, his hand was tight on the grip. Wait for the spot to get close enough, wait… now! He'd thrust it as hard and fast as he could, using his whole body, every ounce of weight and strength. Not _quite_ on target, but close, close enough to bite deep — not deep _enough_ , he was too _small_. The warg threw him off, though the spear stayed stuck. It growled, turned, was coming at him! But then another spear struck it in the flank, making the leg buckle, and Kili scrambled up with his axe, dodging the snap of long teeth, and made himself _look_ for the spot to strike, feel it, and the blade clove into the spine as the third spear pierced the muzzle, pushing the fangs up and away, and the growl stopped.

He'd _done_ it. _Not_ too small, too young, too whatever. He looked up as Uncle Thorin’s broad hand gripped his shoulder. The look of pride warmed Kili like a bonfire, and something else — Thorin had been afraid too, and let Kili see that as well. Neither of them cowards. None of them, he corrected himself as Mister Dwalin put his even bigger hand on Kili’s other shoulder. And Kili couldn't have killed the wolf alone. It would have gotten him but for Thorin and Dwalin’s spears. _They’d_ done it. Together. Courage mattered. So did having other people to help. Comrades.

They ate well that week, and Kili wore the fur until it fell apart. And neither lesson did he ever forget.


End file.
